Nothing. Mr. Emrys has probably seen them all live, but for us younger ones: Thanks to one of Greil Marcus' books, I came across the famous Anthology of American Folk Music a couple of years ago. A collection of local folk songs from the early recording era. There's some great weird stuff in there, and some of it never connected to the mainstream.
Similarly, check out Lenny Kaye's Nuggets collection for some cool 60s prepunk garage rock. When it comes to rock music, I'm of the four-chords-is-one-too-many school of thought, and that's where this is at.
Anything by Brian Eno. I've always liked his approach to Music for Airports:
When you went into an airport, they always played this very happy music, which was sort of saying, you're not going to die, there is not going to be an accident, don't worry. And I thought, this was really the wrong way around. I thought it would be much better to have music that said, well, if you die, it doesn't really matter.
Song-writers, if they're any good, I love them all. Dylan, Lou Reed, Tom Waits, Leonard Cohen. His Hallelujah is such a sublime song, and it turns my stomach whenever I hear some soulless wannabe from a casting show butchering this tune. It poses the eternal question of pop music: does it get tainted when the wrong kinds of people people listen to it?
The postpunk band I grew up with is Sonic Youth. I just adore their guitar sound. Rock has been dead for a long time, but that's a worthy afterglow.
Adorno says that concretist enjoyment of music, which leads to expressions like the thread title, is barbaric. But if I'm going to sin, I might as well indulge in the full sensual pleasure. To me, Puccini's sugary melody lines provide that. It's like the guilty joy of eating way too much candy as a child.